destiel one shot
by the0voice0from0above
Summary: destiel one shot


In the lobby of the Supernatural Criminal Investigations Bureau Headquarters (what some liked to refer to as the "bat cave" because the tower was top heavy and cast the ground floor in permanent shadow) Dean Winchester stood against a pillar smoking in spite of the glares thrown at him from the receptionist. He blew out a cloud and left the cigarette hanging from his lips while he read a text message from his brother. "He knows," was all it said. A second later another message popped up on screen. "And he's pissed."

Dean snorted. As if he needed a warning.

The automatic glass doors opened catching his attention, and the man he had been waiting for stalked across the shiny tiles of the lobby, trench coat billowing like a cape.

A steady smile lit Dean's face in the wake of the angel's glance in his direction. He took one final drag and stubbed out the Camel, choosing to ignore the pointed cluck of disapproval from the receptionist.

He had been waiting all day for this; a pinch of adrenaline thrummed through his veins as he jogged to catch up with his colleague, slipping into the elevator next to him just as the doors closed. Before he spoke, he took a moment to enjoy the tense lines in Cas's frame, his stiff jaw, fisted hands. Dean was grinning by the time he drawled, "So . . .I heard you screwed up and Pellegrino walked."

He surprised Dean by turning to look directly at him – something Cas didn't often do as he liked to ignore Dean as much as humanly possible.

"What do you want from me? A congratulatory hand shake? You had Pellegrino's case dismissed and now he walks free. Well done. You've put a drug lord, murderer and a rapist back on the street." Cas's voice was baritone; it seemed to reverberate off the walls of the elevator.

"Don't be so dramatic," said Dean, sliding his hands into his pockets. "I had to get his case thrown out so he'll show up for the pickup. He can't do that if he's in handcuffs. Chances are he would have walked anyway. With or without my help."

"I had a strong case—"

"What you had was circumstantial."

"I had a witness."

"_Ruby Cortese_? Do you really think she was going to rat on her own boss? I don't think so."

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the twentieth floor which was dark and empty. He and Dean were the only people obsessed with work enough to go back to the office after hours.

"Just stay out of my way."

"Or what?" said Dean, stepping out of the elevator with him.

Cas's jaw twitched; he was obviously gritting his teeth and Dean was enjoying every second.

Their relationship was hard to describe. If he was going to be blunt about it he would say they hated each other; after a bad first impression, a number of questionable decisions and admittedly a lot of bitching on Dean's part, a feud had birthed between them.

That wasn't to say it was a bad thing though. They enjoyed it. Well, Dean did. He didn't know what Cas thought, and he didn't really care. The arguments they shared got Dean's blood pumping like no one else could or would. It made him excited, more eager to take risks.

Although Dean hated him, he liked being around the angel. He liked Cas like an adrenaline junkie liked roller coasters. He didn't know what that meant and when someone asked (as they almost always did whenever they caught Cas and Dean in action), "why don't you just leave each other alone?" he didn't know what to say.

If he was honest he was a little bit addicted to his colleague. But he wasn't about to share that information.

Cas took a step towards him. He looked angry. There was a strong chance Dean was going to get hit; he even notched his jaw in anticipation of it. They'd never hit each other before – they had come close to it – but they had yet to pop their fist-fight-cherry and Dean was looking forward to it.

Unfortunately, all of a sudden, like a fire burning out, Cas's bright blue eyes lost their intensity. His shoulders slumped, and he backed off a couple of steps. "Or nothing," he said simply.

He turned to leave, but Dean was more than a little taken aback and couldn't let him go. He caught his wrist. "What, that's it? No witty comeback? No veiled threat?"

"Do you need one?" For once, Cas sounded tired.

It did strange things to Dean's insides. He wasn't sure how to react. "No . . . I just. . ." Dean frowned. There were shadows under Cas's eyes from lack of sleep, his face seemed hollow and he held himself like a man carrying a huge weight. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

"Do you care?" A trace of a smile tilted Cas's lips as if it was ridiculous to even ask.

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. Bullshit sat on the edge of Dean's tongue but instead the truth spilled out. "Yeah. I do," he admitted.

"I'm resigning," said Cas after a second.

"What? Why?"

"I. . ."

"Was it the Pellegrino thing? I told you we need him on the street anyway, it's not like—"

"Dean, as. . .astounded as I am of your sudden interest for my welfare I don't wish to discuss it." He tilted his head. "Thank you. For your concern."

Castiel turned away and as he did so a curl of light fluttered from somewhere near his shoulder, rocking in the air, gliding towards the floor. The tiny light reduced to a vague glow and grew duller the longer it lay there against the grimy corridor tiles until all that was left was a pure white feather.

Dean crouched and picked it up. It was his job to know about supernatural beings. Cas might have been a colleague but he was also supernatural, an angel, so he knew exactly what it meant when an angel lost its feathers.

Angel wings were invisible and powered by celestial energy. Neither the wings nor the feathers were organic. Only when the angel's celestial energy was depleted or depleting did they fall out and since celestial energy was basically an angel's life force if it ran out that meant only one thing.

"You're dying?" said Dean as he straightened up. Had he been able to override the powerful sense of panic wracking his body and actually feel something other than the icy fist twisting his gut, he would have been shocked by his feelings for the angel.

Cas stopped in his tracks. Slowly he turned to face Dean. His blue eyes flitted to the pure white feather in Dean's hand then away again. "My problems are my own—"

"You're—Cas, what the hell? You're _dying_?! When the hell were you going to tell me?" He demanded, throwing his arms out.

Cas's face scrunched up. "When? I think the question is _why_. Why would I _ever _tell you?"

"I'm your colleague! We work in the same freaking building!"

"And that is all we share," snapped Cas, his voice echoing down the dark corridors. "We are not friends, Dean. We are not acquaintances. We share a building and nothing else."

Dean stalked closer and jabbed a finger at Cas's chest. "Just because we're not BFFs doesn't mean you shouldn't have told me."

Cas knocked Dean's hand away. "I don't have an obligation to tell to you or anyone else! It's my business, _mine_."

"You can't just hide something like that from people!"

"Why do you care? You have spent your entire career trying to undermine me. You have beaten me in every aspect of this job, are you determined to outlive me as well?"

Dean's knuckles smashed into the angel's nose, blood spurting out like a fountain. "You son of a bitch. How can you say—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence before the angel's fist connected with his jaw hard enough to earn a crunch and send him staggering backwards into the wall behind him.

"You—"

"Shut up, Dean. Just shut up!" exclaimed Castiel. "I'm _not _dying."

They stared at each other, breathing hard, their chests heaving in unison.

"You're not?"

Cas sighed heavily, looking away. "No."

"But your feathers. . ."

A delicate blush stained the angel's cheeks. "Yes. They're falling out," he admitted. "But it isn't because I'm dying."

"Then what is it?" asked Dean perplexed. His jaw was still throbbing like a bitch, sending shards of pain through his temple, but he couldn't have cared less.

"It's nothing."

"It can't be nothing if you're resigning because of it. Aren't your feathers powered by your angel mojo?"

"Yes." Castiel cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

Dean waited for him to expand. When nothing came, he rolled his eyes and hit his head against the wall. "Come on, Cas, Jeez. Just freaking tell me. You can crack me in the jaw again if it makes you feel any better."

"Punching you in the face will always make me feel better," clarified Castiel.

Dean laughed and they shared a brief smile.

Cas looked down at his feet, contemplating, like a child who had been given an ultimatum of either going to bed early or handing over the cookies.

The whole situation was surreal. Maybe it was the fact that they were in an empty corridor and the dull elevator lights were the only things preventing complete darkness. Or it might have been the way Cas was being all shy and embarrassed; it made Dean's skin feel too tight across his chest and his fingers tingle. His palms were sweating.

Pushing away from the wall, he moved closer to the angel, deleting the distance between them with every step. Castiel lifted his head and connected those wide blue eyes, which had always fascinated him, with Dean's.

"Why have I never seen you like this?" asked Dean.

"Bleeding?" Cas's tone was off, his breathing irregular.

"No. Vulnerable." With his thumb, Dean wiped away the blood from the angel's mouth. The swipe left a pink smudge across his pale skin as if he had smeared lipstick. Cas had never let him get this close before. He wondered if the angel's compliance had anything to do with how tired he seemed. It brought out Dean's protective urges and he was fully aware of how ironic that was since he had practically made it his life's work to feud with Castiel.

Taking a chance, Dean cupped Cas's face, thumb brushing his cheek softly. The angel sank into his palm like it was a pillow, like someone who had worked a long, _long _day and was finally allowed to rest. Dean stomach clenched as he watched Castiel's eyes close.

The contact between them felt less alien than he would have imagined. If someone had told him the day before that he would be comforting Castiel, the angel, his arch nemesis, he would have laughed in their face. As it was, it felt right. More than right. In fact, it felt more like an inevitability than anything else which was why he had no qualms about tilting his head and kissing the angel.

Cas made a little noise of surprise as soon as their lips touched. He accepted the kiss though, threading his fingers through Dean's hair and pulling him closer.

Although Dean's pulse was triple its usual pace, and his skin was burning, growing hotter with every push of Cas's lips and slide of his tongue, they moved slowly, lazily.

Dean backed Cas up until he was pressed against the wall between the two elevators. He rolled his hips and Cas's head fell back in a gasp. He did it again and again, pushing up against the angel. Through the layers of clothing he knew it wouldn't be enough to get them off, but he couldn't stop doing it, because that throb of pleasure it elicited every time he rocked his hips, and the damp material dragging over sensitive places was just as addictive as watching the blush staining Cas's cheeks grow darker.

He moved his mouth to the angel's throat, grazing and nipping it with his teeth, before finally clamping his lips down and sucking. He could feel the frantic pounding of Cas's pulse under his tongue. Cas began to squirm. His hot breaths fell in gushes against Dean's neck.

Sensing that Cas was close, he grabbed hold of the back of the angel's thighs and lifted him clean off the floor. Immediately, Cas cried out and Dean caught the sound with a kiss.

The new position sent an unexpected thrill through Dean. It might have been the way Cas was holding onto his shoulders, or how tight his thighs were around his waist, or the little hitches in his breaths every time Dean thrust against him. Whatever it was, he began to move his hips in earnest, spurred on by the familiar build of twisting heat in his groin. He came not long after with a bitten off groan, allowing Cas to sink to his feet again.

When the aftershocks had waned, he moved his head back a little to see the angel's face. Cas was watching him steadily.

"Have I just ruined our beautiful friendship?" asked Dean.

"We never had a friendship to begin with," he replied.

"Does that mean we can have as much sex as we want?"

"I'd say so."


End file.
